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I was always smaller than other kids and usually got picked last (my game was Association Football, also known as soccer to USians). But I always volunteered to play goalkeeper, since I was small and agile, and didn't do too badly. You can imagine my delight one day after saving three penalties -- especially after the other team spent a long time trash-talking us. ;) We ended up winning three-nil.

I was even more delighted at an indoor game one day. Smaller pitch, smaller goals, fewer players, but their entire team was crowding around me to try and force the ball home. I got there first and hit the ball as hard as I could, to get it far, far away from me. By some chance, it sailed in a perfect parabola over everybody's head (including their goalie) and hit the net on the other side. ;) It's not often that goalkeepers get to score a goal!
 
Enjoyed the sports stories!

Seems like the Blue Jays are insisting on doing things the hard way for the post-season. At least they're in the playoffs, I suppose.
 
My grandmother, mother, and I all played basketball. My daughter played volleyball, but I eventually forgave her.

I'm allowed back for a visit because I finished one substantial project. Ten minutes, and back to the next project.
 
I played volleyball, too, way back we played in an adult league just for fun. I really enjoyed it.
 
Visiting again as a reward for good behavior and a solid three hours of work this morning. Sent Synopsis One off half an hour ago. Another hour or so and maybe I can send Synopsis Two as well.

Out to the garden for a breath of air, then back to work. I want this thing DONE.
 
My job, man…


Like I’m being pulled in six different directions, having to stop what I’m doing in one project to do something else. Then they have the cajones to ask about my progress on the thing I was working on.

I’m like, how in turn name of Jesus’ sweaty left ballsack am I gonna get any of this done?!
 
Today, I am going to help my fifteen-year-old grandniece with her prep for a Chemistry test tomorrow.

I hope I remember what I'm supposed to remember.
 
nah, I'm just going to try to remember it from the days I used to teach it. :)
 
What do you get when you cross a transition metal with a polyatomic ion?
 
we can give you a fixed term ban if you're finding self control difficult, just give me an end date
Thanks, Moose, but I generally manage to keep myself in line without taking drastic action and/or enlisting armed guards. A certain amount of whining and hooky-playing helps maintain sanity.

Both synopses are DONE and have been emailed to John the Agent. Now I wait to see if John the Editor likes either or both.

What do you get when you cross a transition metal with a polyatomic ion?

A pretty explosion with copper-colored sparkles?
 
What do I do if (as is indeed the case) I don't have a science background, and don't know what "transition metal" and "polyatomic ion" are? ;)

I know what I would do if I was told to keep such things safe: leave them the hell alone and walk away. ;) I don't know what they are, nor how to keep them safe, so it's better not to do anything.
 
My junor high and high school curriculum was science-heavy (I took every science course offered except earth science), then science took over my college years as well. I always want to giggle when people at events ask me if I have an MFA in writing. No, but I did take Mr. Choates' advanced composition class my junior year in high school. The best writing hint I ever got was scrawled in his handwriting across the top of my first paper: "Wordy, dear!" That was the beginning of learning to edit myself.
 
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I did better in math and science in high school than I did in English. But I do remember that in grade 9 we were given an assignment to write a mystery short story. I really put a lot of work into it, and very cleverly (in my fourteen-year-old opinion) included all the elements of a mystery story. When I got my story back, I got 19 1/2 out of 20, with no explanation of the deducted half-a-mark.

I went and asked the teacher why I had lost the half-a-mark. He laughed at me and said, "Nothing's perfect! No-one can be perfect!"

When I became a teacher, I made sure I could always completely justify every mark I gave, or did not give.
 
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